


Something Old

by helsinkibaby



Series: Novembers Past [9]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Minor Character Backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-13
Updated: 2001-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:00:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2148234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginger realises that she has to move on with her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Old

With a final sigh, I save the document and prepare to turn off my computer. I've done all that there is to do and I'm finally totally and completely up to date. Whomever the temp pool sends up here tomorrow will be able to access anything that anyone might need. Not that there's going to be that many people here tomorrow - anyone who's anyone will be at what the Washington Post have decided to call "The Wedding of the Year." That's a phrase that almost had Toby tearing his beard out as hackneyed and clichéd, but as CJ said, better that than "The Scandal of the Century."

I'm all ready to leave when out of the corner of my eye, I catch a familiar flash of blonde hair. "Donna?" I call out, thinking that it can't possibly be her, but she jumps and whirls around, and I see that it is.

"Hey Ginger." She greets me with an uncertain smile, and I can't help but notice how red her eyes are. "What are you doing here so late?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" Donna's been on leave for the last week, and even though she's popped in and out to see Josh, she certainly shouldn't be here this late. Not tonight. "You're getting married tomorrow. Shouldn't you be with your family?"

A look that can only be described as panicked flashes across Donna's face as soon as I mention the word "married". "I know that…I just wanted to…I needed to check…"

I take a leap of faith, knowing from long experience that if I let Donna continue in this vein we'll be here all night. "Are you here to see Josh?"

Her shoulders slump ever so slightly. "I know it's bad luck, but I just wanted to…"

"He's not here." I tell her. "Sam and Toby took him-"

I stop when her face pales - and she was white as a sheet to begin with. "Oh God," she moans. "They've gone out drinking the night before our wedding? Are they insane? Do they know…"

"Donna!" I take a grip of her hand and I'm shocked at how cold it is. It's the middle of July - she shouldn't be that cold. "Relax. CJ told Sam and Toby that if they allowed him to drink tonight and anything happened tomorrow, she would personally see to it that they were very, very sorry. He'll be fine."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry Ginger. I am. I'm just…"

"Nervous?"

"Petrified."

I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. "You want to go to the mess and get something to drink?"

She blinks, then smiles back. "OK."

I flatly refuse to let her get coffee, instead telling her to find us a table while I get two steaming mugs of tea. The mess is deserted this time of night, and she sits in a table in the corner, where we're not likely to be disturbed, even if anyone did come in. She's the first to speak. "I know I shouldn't be this rattled," she says apologetically. "I know it's stupid…"

I shake my head. "Donna, you've been a rock of sense since you began to plan this wedding. Frankly, I'm surprised you've lasted this long."

"I freaked out a bit at the rehearsal dinner last night," Donna admits. "But Josh was there, and he knew exactly what to say to calm me down. And tonight, I was at the hotel with my parents, and I just started thinking on all the things that could go wrong…and I told them I was going to bed…and I came here instead."

I nod, knowing that Donna had moved out of her and Josh's apartment for the night before the wedding. They've been living together for just over a year, having finally got together the night President Bartlet got re-elected. "You know that this is normal right?" I ask her.

She nods. "I know that people say every bride goes through this…but that doesn't help when it's you!" She manages a weak laugh at her own expense before a sigh overtakes it. "Oh Ginger…" Another sigh. "You have no idea…"

I feel a sad little smile tug at the corners of my mouth. "Oh, I think I do." My voice is wistful and ten years away, and it takes the look on Donna's face to make me realise that I've spoken aloud.

"Ginger?"

I take a sip of my tea, figuring out as I do so how best to frame a response. In all the time that I've worked at the White House, I've told three people about this. At first, it was because it was too painful to talk about. Then as time wore on and I was able to talk about it -well, how did you just drop something like this into a conversation? So it was easier to keep quiet, not to talk about him. "Yeah," I say simply, answering her unspoken question.

"You were married?" she whispers, and a part of me notices that at least the shock seems to have chased her nerves away. My work here is done. Except Donna's not going to let it go at that. "I didn't know."

"Hardly anyone does," I tell her.

"When? And where? And to who?"

"His name was Alan," I tell her. "And we met in college. We dated…and I thought he hung the moon and the stars. He was popular, he was smart, he was handsome - he could have had his pick of women. I could never understand why he chose me." Donna looks down at her hands, and I know that this is sounding familiar to her, which was my intent. "It took me a while to realise that, much to my surprise, he thought the sun rose and set on me. That he loved me just as much as I loved him. We got married the November after we graduated."

"Were you nervous?" Donna leans forward, hanging on my every word.

I laugh, remembering our wedding day. "I was like you - calm and composed and collected. I had to be - I'm the only daughter in the family, and my mother spent the entire couple of months before sobbing at the drop of a hat. I was fine until I got to the church. Then I started shaking so hard I was sure that I was going to drop my bouquet." In my mind's eye, I can see the aisle ahead of me, see Alan at the altar. I can almost feel my dad's arm through mine, smell the flowers in the church. "All I was thinking when I was walking down the aisle was that any second now, Alan was going to come to his sense and realise what a colossal mistake he was making. And then I was standing beside him…and he smiled at me…and it was like…" Here, I stop, words momentarily failing me as I remember that feeling.

"It was like your heart started beating again." Donna's voice is dreamy, and I smile at her, knowing exactly what she means.

"Yeah."

"That's how I feel when Josh looks at me," Donna continues. "Like I could do anything."

I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. "You're going to be fine Donna. You and Josh…you're going to be so happy."

"You think?" There's just a tiny lingering bit of doubt.

"Look how much you went through to get here," I remind her. And they have - other disastrous relationships, years of denial, an assassination attempt, political scandal, Healthgate, a minor media frenzy when their relationship became public - but they're still here, still together. That's pretty remarkable in my book. "Anything else is easy."

Donna smiles, that bright, brilliant Donna Moss smile that I've come to know. "Thanks Ginger."

I return the smile. "You're welcome."

She takes a drink of her tea, then tilts her head. I steel myself, knowing what's coming next. "Ginger?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to you and Alan?"

I take a deep breath, but to my surprise, thinking about this doesn't hurt as much as it used to. "We were kind of the opposite to you and Josh," I tell her. "Everything was too easy for us I think…too smooth. Too perfect." And it was - we met in college, never dated other people; he was my first serious boyfriend, my first everything. And while there had been girls for him before me, there were none after me. I know that for sure. Apart from the three months where I temporarily lost my mind and let my insecurities get the better of me and broke up with him, we were as solid a couple as you'd find anywhere, at any age.

"What happened?"

"He was knocked down by a drunk driver," I tell her simply. "He was crossing the street and the car ran the light." Donna's hand reaches across the table and grips mine tightly, and I wonder if she's thinking about the lady we both loved so much who met a similar fate.

"Were you there?" she asks me.

I nod, looking down at the table. "He pushed me out of the way." I only whisper the words, but the grip on my hand gets tighter.

"Oh Ginger, I'm so sorry."

I shake my head, looking up at her. "I'm fine Donna…really." And, much to my surprise, I am. "We had three happy years together. Three perfect years that I wouldn't swap for anything. And I just hope that you and Josh are as happy as we were."

Donna grins, although there's a suspicious sheen around her eyes. "Me too." She pauses and I can almost see a calculator whirring in her head as she works out the numbers. "Is that why you joined the campaign?"

I nod, remembering something that she'd told me a long time ago, about what drove her to join the campaign. "You remember you said that you saw this program about the candidates, and you got so inspired you drove from Wisconsin to New Hampshire on a whim?" She nods. "I think I caught the repeat. And I did the exact same thing."

"My parents thought I was mad," Donna confides.

I laugh, picturing the look on my parent's faces when I told them what I'd decided. "You should've seen mine! I'd hardly left the house in months, then all of a sudden I'm packing up and moving across the country…they wanted to lock me up."

"We're some pair," Donna laughs, then she sobers, taking both my hands in hers. "Thank you Ginger. I don't know what I would have done without you tonight."

I glance up at the clock on the wall, starting when I see the time. "We should both be gone," I tell her. "You've got an early start tomorrow."

She groans. "I know. And my mom is worrying over whether I have something old something new etc etc."

I remember it all well. "And do you?"

"Well, new is my dress. Borrowed is my grandmother's necklace. Which is also my something old - do you think that's allowed?"

"I'm sure it's fine. What about blue?"

Donna smiles a wicked smile and beckons me closer. "Margaret and I went lingerie shopping…"

*

The next day is so beautiful that I'm convinced it's a good omen for Josh and Donna, and I say as much to Bonnie as we sit with the rest of the assistants. The President offered Josh and Donna the use of the Rose Garden for the wedding, and the Residence for the reception and after some thought, they accepted. Donna was overcome with the romance of the notion, and it being something to tell the grandkids about. I think Josh was more concerned with the fact that everyone would be close to the office in case war broke out or something.

But war doesn't break out, the sun shines brilliantly, and we stand as we hear the first strains of the Wedding March. I hear sniffles beside me and pass Margaret a hanky as Donna walks by. She looks beautiful, and she catches my eye as she goes past. I can't resist winking at her and I hear Bonnie on my other side whisper something about how she doesn't look nervous.

All I can do is smile.

Once she gets to the altar, all she and Josh can do is stare at each other, and I'm amazed that we get through the ceremony without a hitch. That is, until the celebrant asks for the rings.

We wait.

And we wait.

And then every eye in the garden slowly turns to Sam, including Josh's.

Oh dear. That's not the look you want to see on the groom's face. Unless he has to kill a Republican of course. "Sam…" he threatens.

"They're here," Sam is flustered. "I know I have them here…" He's patting every pocket, and further down our row, Cathy is fit to be tied. "I'll kill him," she mutters.

"Stand in line," Bonnie orders.

By the time Sam's turned out every pocket and turned his jacket upside down, Josh is purple and Donna is fighting back tears. "I don't know where they are…" Sam is whispering, but in the horrified silence, every word is a shout.

Josh fixes Sam with a gaze that would kill a lesser man, but a sob from Donna makes him turn, and his expression softens as he takes her in his arms.

Before I know it, I'm on my feet, moving into the aisle, shaking off Margaret's hand on my arm. I hear murmurs from the crowd, but I don't care. "Wait," I say, my hands going to the clasp of the chain around my neck.

My voice makes Donna lift her head, and both she and Josh look at me. That and the fact that everyone else is looking at me too makes my hands shake, and I can barely get the clasp undone. The thought strikes me that this is almost like the last time I walked down the aisle and I feel the insane urge to giggle. Once the clasp is open, I grip the necklace in my hands, and by then, I’m right in front of Josh and Donna. I stare at the two rings on the chain, taking a deep breath, knowing what I have to do.

I slide the rings free of the chain, holding them out to Josh and Donna. "You said you needed something old," I tell her.

Donna shakes her head, and Josh just looks mystified. "Ginger, we can't…" Donna begins, but I cut her off.

"Yes you can Donna." I even manage a genuine smile. "I think he'd approve."

We stand there like that, then Donna smiles too, and, letting go of Josh, pulls me into a hug. "Thank you," she whispers.

I hand the rings to the celebrant, and go back to my seat, knowing that everyone is looking at me with questions in their eyes, but I don't care. I can't take my eyes off my friend and the love of her life as they exchange their vows.

I know that I've done the right thing.

*

After near-disaster at the ceremony, the reception goes off without a hitch. The meal was fabulous, the speeches were funny, and the bride and groom were lost in their own little world. When the ceremony was over, I had been nervous about having to explain the rings to everyone; I thought that people would be coming over and asking me over and over again. Thankfully, the only people to ask me about them were the other assistants. They were surprised that I'd never said anything about it before, but they were also concerned about how I was holding up - I think they thought that I was going to collapse in floods of tears at any minute. Once I'd told them, Margaret and Carol and Cathy disappeared into the crowd, leaving me and Bonnie talking, and I think that they must've spread the word, or at least told people to leave me alone and not ask questions.

I spend a good part of the evening trying to avoid Sam, who seems to have anointed me as his personal saviour, since I came through for him in his hour of need. He swears that he did have the rings, although they're not in his tuxedo, and a quick search of his office proved fruitless. But after the fourth or fifth thank you, I'm about ready to strangle him.

The dancing is in full swing when I decide to get some fresh air. I'm not sure whether I planned it or not, but I end up in the Sculpture Garden, and sit down in what I've come to think of as "my" bench. It's a change for me to do this in the height of summer. Usually when I'm out here, it's November, and I'm half-afraid that I'll freeze to the bench, but there's no chance of that tonight. It's warm enough for me to sit out here without my wrap, and I lean back on the bench and look at the stars.

I'm not surprised when I hear footsteps coming up the path. I start to smile, but I don't look up until he's standing right beside me, until I'm able to smell the faint odour of cigar smoke. He doesn't have a cigar with him tonight I see, but that never seems to matter. Donna swears she can smell Josh's cologne when he's nearby, and I used to say the same of Alan. But it's never cologne that I associate with Toby. Whenever he's nearby, I can smell his cigar smoke And when I see him now, looking down at me with that look that's somewhere between concern for me and concern that he's intruding on me, carrying two glasses of scotch, I smile up at him. "It's not Election Night Toby." That doesn't stop me taking the glass from his right hand.

He shrugs. "I figured you might need this anyway." He sits down beside me. "You OK?"

I laugh softly, concentrating on the amber liquid in my glass. "I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Really." I take a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I didn't think I would be, but I am."

"I know how you feel," he tells me softly, not taking his eyes from his own glass. Something in his voice makes me look at him, and my eyes drift to his left hand, and the ring finger, now bare. I can't remember when he took the ring off, after so many years of wearing it, but I remember the sensation that it caused in the West Wing when everyone finally noticed it.

"I've been wearing those rings around my neck for seven years," I tell him.

"I know."

"I talked to Donna last night. She was nervous about today and I ended up reassuring her." I pause, trying to gather my thoughts.

"Is that when you told her?"

"Yeah. Yeah. And I told her that she and Josh were going to be happy - just like Alan and I were. And that's when I figured it out."

He looks up at me then, questions burning in his eyes. "Figured what out?"

"That I've moved on," I tell him simply. I expect him to look surprised at that; after all, Alan has been gone for seven years. In that time, I've changed jobs, I've moved homes and cities, I've made new friends, I've gone out on dates. My life didn't stop completely that November night.

At least, not on the outside.

But inside, in my heart, where it matters, I was still clinging on to Alan's memory. Still wanting him, still missing him. Never quite giving up the hope that he was going to walk through the door. Never quite believing that he wouldn't be there beside me when I woke from a nightmare, or worse, a dream, in the middle of the night.

Somewhere along the line though, it stopped hurting so much. I was able to think about him without wanting to cry. I was able to talk about him with my family and friends. I was able to look at the Denver Broncos play football. I was able to see people wearing pearl necklaces without being reminded of my own, although I know that as long as I live, I'll never wear one again.

But Toby doesn't look surprised; only curious. He raises an eyebrow. "You didn't know that already?"

"I don't think I did. Life kinda carried me along without me noticing it. And I think that my head did know that I was going on. My heart…my heart just took a while to catch up."

He nods. "It was a good thing you did today."

I smile, thinking of Donna and Josh's faces as they exchanged rings. "There's a lot of love in those rings," I tell him. "A lot of memories. But I don't need them around my neck as a reminder anymore. It's time for me to move on - time for all of me to move on."

He lifts his glass, holding it out to me. "Well then…a toast."

"To what?" Even as I ask the question, I'm holding up my own glass, ready to tip it against his, knowing what his toast is going to be before he speaks.

"To moving on."

His voice is low, his face perfectly serious. But the look in his eyes, I've seen before. It's the same look that was there on Election Night, almost two years ago now. It's the look that I hadn't seen since Alan, and have only seen snatches of from Toby since. That night, I took his arm as we walked back into the party, and I left the Sculpture Garden without a backward glance. But when we got back to the party, we were the very model of professional decorum. I dropped his arm when we got to the door, and the only sign that anything had happened was his hand at the small of my back as we made our way through the dancing masses.

Since then, there have been times where he's been so distant with me, so reserved and stand-offish, that I've been sure I imagined that look in his eyes. He's certainly never made any overtures towards me, never done anything that could be construed as improper. But there have been other times where he's said something, or I've caught him looking at me, and I know that it happened.

I get the feeling that he's waiting for me, until he knows that I'm ready. And that whatever I say now is going to be crucial in whatever this is.

And I smile, and lift my glass to his and the clink of glass against glass shatters the silence of the night around us. "To moving on." I knock back the scotch in one gulp, smiling at him as he takes his in two. Without a word, he takes the empty glass from my hand and fits it neatly inside his own, putting them down on the bench in between us. Then he takes my two hands in both of his, holding them tightly. My bravado of moments earlier vanishes, and I begin to speak, hating the hesitation in my own voice. "Toby…I'm not real sure I remember how to do this…" I'm afraid that he'll take my admission the wrong way, and for an instant as he looks at me, it feels as if my heart has stopped.

He chuckles without malice, raising my hands to his lips, kissing them lightly. Even though it's a warm night, I shiver, and that makes his eyes twinkle merrily. "How about," he says softly, his lips turning up in a smile, "We start with a dance. And then see what the night brings?"

I find myself smiling back at him, and feel my heart start to beat again. "I can handle that."

"Good." He stands, pulling me up. "Let's get started." He picks up the glasses and holds them in one hand, slipping the other arm around my waist, pulling me as close to him as he can. And that's the way we go back into the wedding, and the way we stay for the rest of the night. I catch Donna's eye while we're on the dance floor, during one of the rare moments that she can tear her gaze away from Josh, and she beams at me, mouthing "thank you" for the hundredth time in two days. And I'm able to smile back at her, knowing for sure now that there's something special in store for both of us.


End file.
